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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221537">The Great Christmas Glitter War of 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl'>firstdegreefangirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2020 Christmas advent, Christmas, Glitter, I promise, It's all fun and games, M/M, Prank Wars, but then things get FUN, christmas shenanigans, it starts as an accident</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:07:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221537</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Buck makes a mess in Eddie's living room. Eddie gets even. But then Buck gets even ... again. So Eddie gets ...</p>
<p>Well, you see the gist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>25 (More) Days Of Buddie</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Great Christmas Glitter War of 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Look! I wrote a second one! Almost picked this prompt the first go around, so I knew what I wanted to do when they opened it up for a second round of selections. What can I say, I'm a sucker for Christmas shenanigans, and these two make it <i>very</i> easy to indulge myself.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie opens the front door to the sight of Buck standing on his porch with two bulging plastic sacks of craft supplies. He reaches for one of the bags, then leans in for a short kiss before turning around to call out to Chris that Buck is here.  </p>
<p>It’s an unnecessary announcement, though, because Chris is already barreling around the corner and skidding to a jerky stop in front of Buck. </p>
<p>“Bucky! You made it!” </p>
<p>“Of course I did, little man. I promised we could make snow globes, didn’t I?” </p>
<p>Buck lets Chris lead him into the living room, listens and chats along at Chris’ excited ramblings, about school, his friends, the Shetland pony Eddie won’t let him adopt, and everything else on his mind. </p>
<p>“You know, your dad might make a point,” Buck sits down cross-legged on the floor, across the coffee table from where Chris is getting settled. “A pony would be a lot of fun, but you don’t have a big enough backyard to ride it around much, and ponies need lots of space to walk.” </p>
<p>“I guess,” Chris shrugs, and Eddie barely stifles an eye roll. He’d made the same argument not two nights ago, and it had ended with Chris going to bed with tear stains on his cheeks because he had “the meanest, most un-fun dad in the world!” But Buck says the same thing, and he gets an agreeable shrug? </p>
<p>It would be a little funny, if he hadn’t been up half the night, looking for handicap-accessible pony rides. As it is, it’s just one more reminder how lucky he is to have Buck in their lives, as if the mason jars and glue he’s pulling out of his sack aren’t proof enough. </p>
<p>Buck is unpacking a hot glue gun, plastic figurines and several jars of glitter, mostly blue and white. </p>
<p>They make eye contact over Chris’ head, and have a seamless conversation without saying so much as a single word out loud, before Buck hands him a bottle of the clear glue. </p>
<p>“Alright, Chris. You’re gonna squeeze this entire bottle into your jar. Think you can handle it?” Chris nods emphatically and unscrews the top. Eddie watches as he turns the bottle of glue upside down, but his aim is a little off, and it’s a narrowly-avoided spill when Eddie nudges the glass jar underneath the thick stream before the first drop can hit the table. </p>
<p>Buck leaves them to the glue while he fills a plastic pitcher with water from the kitchen tap. He reaches for the jar Eddie has just finished pouring into and tops it off with the water, setting it carefully off to one side. Between the three of them, they fill five jars, then Buck plugs in the hot glue and shows Chris how to pick where he wants his tiny plastic trees and people stuck.  </p>
<p>Eddie watches the way Buck is patient with Chris, lets him take as much time as he needs to decide on the perfect arrangement before he starts dropping tiny beads of glue down and letting Chris stick the figurines into them. He and Eddie glue their own, while Chris deliberates on his last two, and when all five of them are glued, Buck reaches for the first jar of glitter. </p>
<p>“Now, for the fun part,” he announces, unscrewing the plastic lid. But he frowns when he looks down and sees the paper seal over the top of the bottle. “OK, slight delay, but up next: the fun part!”  </p>
<p>Chris laughs at his dramatic tone, like he’s emceeing a three-ring circus as he picks at the edges of the seal. There’s a little tab, and he’s able to get it lifted up far enough to pinch between his thumb and forefinger, but when he tugs on it, the tab tears off in his grip, leaving the jar just as thoroughly covered as it was before.  </p>
<p>He sighs, and turns the bottle over in his hands, looking for a second grip point that just isn’t there, then drums two fingers lightly across the seal. There’s a dull thumping sound, but the shiny paper holds fast, His eyes narrow, and Eddie could swear that he can feel the gears turning in Buck’s head. After a moment, he lifts the glitter up to his mouth and starts clicking his teeth together. Try as he might, though, he can’t quite catch the edges of the seal between them, and he's forced to give up after a moment, when he recognizes the futility.  </p>
<p>Eddie almost offers to help, to go find a knife or something and cut in through the top. He’s preparing himself to slide back from the edge of the table and stand, leaving Buck with no room for his own hubris in the face of an easier solution. </p>
<p>But when he glances over again, it looks like Buck maybe has it figured out this time. He’s wiggled the edge of his thumbnail just far enough under the seal to get a solid grasp on it again, and all he has left to do is pull back until it’s separated from the jar itself. </p>
<p>From here, it should be an easy finish. But Eddie should have known better, because as long as he’s known Buck, nothing has ever been as easy as it seems.  </p>
<p>He’s holding the jar against his chest with one hand, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he jerks the other away from his body.  </p>
<p>The seal comes off in his hand, so Eddie supposes that he’s achieved the ultimate goal. But the force of his pull is sharp enough that it jostles the hand that’s bracing the jar as well.  </p>
<p>Eddie sees it coming before it happens, but too late to intervene, like time is slowing down in front of him. He’s felt time drag on like this before, but it’s always been when Chris starts to stumble or something, and Eddie is too far away to catch him. He’s helpless to the next few seconds, doomed to watch the train wreck unfold in front of him.  </p>
<p>And sure enough, the glitter flies through the air, a celestial looking streak of blue across the middle of the living room. For a split second, Eddie imagines that he can see every individual speck reflecting from the lamp and the window, the bright sharpness of the edges slicing through his plans for a quiet afternoon at home. </p>
<p>Then, just as quickly as it had slowed down, time speeds up again, and the glitter drops unceremoniously to cover every surface in its wake. Nothing is spared, from the sparkling river cutting through the middle of the table, to the floor surrounding it, which catches most of the overspray. A few flecks land on Chris’ face, metallic freckles across his nose and cheeks.  </p>
<p>But as much glitter as there is spread across the room, there’s almost as much on Buck. It’s dumped across his lap, scattered across both hands and forearms, and making his chin shimmer in the light as he looks around. </p>
<p>“Shit,” he says, shocked enough not to realize that Chris is sitting right there. In his periphery, Eddie sees Chris’ jaw drop open, surprised at Buck’s language. “Eddie, I -” </p>
<p>He moves to stand up, and it’s enough to draw Eddie out of his stunned silence. </p>
<p>“Stop!” Eddie waits for Buck to freeze before he glances down at himself, finds that he’d been far enough off to the side to mercifully have been spared from most of the attack. “Don’t move. I’m going to get the vacuum. Do. Not. Move.”  </p>
<p>He stands up slowly, careful not to put his hands on the table for support, or step too far to one side as he gets his feet under him. Buck’s hands come down onto the tabletop, spread just wider than his shoulders, rooted to the surface by his own horror. His fingers flex, just enough to dump a little bit more glitter onto the table, but he’s otherwise still as Eddie hurries toward the pantry to start the cleanup process. </p>
<p>When he returns, everything is just as he’d left it, except that Chris’ nose is flaring as he inhales repeatedly. It’s a pattern that Eddie recognizes, knows can only mean one thing, one thing that will make this impossibly more difficult to fix.  </p>
<p>“Chris!” He calls his son’s name, gets him to turn his head just in time for the sneeze to come rattling out full-force. It blows some of the glitter from his face, but the piles on the table remain intact, so Eddie is willing to count it as a small win. “Good save, bud. Last thing we needed is for you to sneeze even more glitter all over Buck.” </p>
<p>“Dad, that’s <em>gross!” </em>Chris shouts as Eddie plugs the vacuum in and pushes it across the floor toward the middle of the room. </p>
<p>“I know. That’s why I had to stop you.” Eddie laughs and turns the vacuum on, listening to the way it pops and clicks as the glitter bounces around in the filter. He gets as much out of the carpet as he can, but makes a mental note not to wear socks if he’s going to be walking around in the living room for at least a few weeks. Then he crouches down and tugs the nozzle loose, testing the suction against his palm before he starts sucking the glitter off of Buck’s arms.  </p>
<p>From the corner of his eye, Eddie sees Chris carefully scooping some of the sparkles off of the table and dumping them into the jars. There’s not enough glitter to put much in every jar, but Eddie figures they can always use a different color and top them off later.  </p>
<p>In the kitchen. Over some newspaper. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, he’s using one finger to brush the stray flecks from Buck’s face, sucking them off of his thighs until he’s gotten as much of the glitter cleaned up as he possibly can. He switches the vacuum off and unplugs it before carefully pulling Chris’ hands out of the glitter. </p>
<p>“I think we’ve had enough glitter for today,” He takes a deep breath, determined to keep the frustration out of his voice. None of this is Chris’ fault, so Eddie doesn’t want him to think that he’s done something wrong. But if there’s one more glitter-related mishap this afternoon, Eddie doesn’t think he can be trusted to handle it appropriately.  </p>
<p>So it’s time to help Chris start the sink, lest he use his glitter-coated fingers to grab the faucet, and encourage him to play in his bedroom for a little bit while Eddie finishes cleaning up. He hears the vacuum running again, while he assures Chris that no one is in any trouble, but pays it no mind. </p>
<p>Until he gets back out to the living room and sees Buck cleaning off the table, vacuuming away as much of the glitter as he can and wiping at the rest with a damp paper towel. </p>
<p>Eddie doesn’t say anything, doesn’t interrupt the focus, just lets Buck work until he decides he’s finished. Only then does he step all the way back into the room, helping Buck wind up the cord and putting the vacuum away. </p>
<p>It’s not perfect, not by a long shot. There’s still a blue shadow glowing in the carpet, and Eddie knows he’s going to have to push down the irritation every time he sees it, until he’s able to rent a steam cleaner and take the time to shampoo it out all the way.  </p>
<p>“Eddie, I’m,” Buck runs a hand through his hair and winces at the specks of glitter that end up stuck to his fingers. “I’m sorry. Really, I didn’t mean-”  </p>
<p>“Buck. Stop.” Eddie pulls Buck into his arms and tries to work his face into a gentle smile. “It’s as much my fault for not thinking to set you up in the kitchen. It’ll be OK, just a bitch to get cleaned up without tracking it all over.”  </p>
<p>“So you’re not mad?” Buck bites his lip, ducking his chin down far enough that he has to peer up at Eddie through his eyelashes, and Eddie makes himself take a deep breath and check his tone before he responds.  </p>
<p>“I’m not mad at you.” He steers them toward the sofa. “Considering the purchase of new carpet, maybe, but not mad.” </p>
<p>“Good,” Buck’s relief is palpable. “I really didn’t mean to.” </p>
<p>Eddie sits down, pulling Buck with him and tucking him into his side. </p>
<p>“I know.” He kisses Buck’s forehead gently. “It’ll clean up eventually.” </p>
<p>He’s not mad, really. And he’s not going to get mad. </p>
<p>He’s going to get even. </p>
<hr/>
<p>It takes four days for Eddie’s plan to fall into place. He considers jumping the gun, but he wants to let the initial sting of Buck’s accident wear off, wait until it’s something he can at least try to laugh at.  </p>
<p>Besides, he needs to wait for things to line up just right, for the universe to give him access to everything he needs to pull this off. </p>
<p>Which is how Buck comes to be checking through his duffel bag before he leaves the locker room after a shift, realizing that his hairbrush isn’t with his other toiletries. His hair is damp from his shower, but he’s just going over to Eddie’s, where he knows no one will hold it against him if it’s not brushed up into his usual style.  </p>
<p>The brush is at home, probably, he figures. He’d been running a little late this morning, so the odds that he left it on the bathroom counter are decent.  </p>
<p>He runs his fingers through his hair instead, trying to achieve some semblance of his usual look. It works well enough, in that he manages to get the loose strands pushed back from his eyes. He knows it doesn’t look at put together as it normally does, but it’ll serve the purpose for tonight.  </p>
<p>Besides, if he lays down on the couch, as he’s wont to do when Eddie settles in beside him after Chris goes to bed, it’ll end up all rumpled anyway.  </p>
<p>He’ll swing back by his apartment in the morning, pick it up then, he decides, zipping the bag and slinging the strap over one shoulder as he pushes out of the locker room and toward his Jeep, waiting in the parking lot. </p>
<p>Except he doesn’t need to go to his apartment the next morning. Because he wakes up in Eddie’s bed, Eddie’s arm slung over his waist (and isn’t that just the greatest feeling in the world?), waits as long as he can before he slides out of the grasp and heads for the bathroom. </p>
<p>Where Buck’s hairbrush is laying on the counter, next to the toothbrush he uses when he stays over. </p>
<p>(He uses this one more days than the one in his own bathroom, if he’s honest with himself.) </p>
<p> He doesn’t think anything of it, other than to be glad he doesn't have to leave time to run across town before he goes to the store. They have identical duffel bags, after all, and usually end up sitting them side-by-side in the locker room. </p>
<p>His brush probably just ended up in Eddie’s bag by accident. No big deal: he has it back now, it’s all good.  </p>
<p>So he reaches for his toothbrush, scrubs away the stale taste of his own morning breath, swishes and spits into the sink and grins at himself in the mirror. He keeps making faces as he runs his fingers through the little tin of hair wax that’s found a permanent home on the corner of the counter. His lips purse, then he presses them together and raises his eyebrows, which he promptly furrows as he scrunches his nose and smiles.  </p>
<p>Buck’s fingers glide through his hair, working it into the gentle swoop he wears every day as he sticks his tongue out at his reflection. He molds it into the general shape he’s looking for, then picks up his brush to smooth out the front. </p>
<p>In one fluid motion, he lifts the brush to his forehead and turns it over in his hand so he can – </p>
<p><em>Dump glitter all over his hair and face. </em> </p>
<p>The shower of it falling in front of his eyes is enough to startle him into dropping the brush. It lands on his bare foot, and he barely manages not to yelp. </p>
<p>“Eddie!” He shouts instead, rolling his eyes as he tries to use his fingertips to pick the glitter out of his hair. It’s stuck fast to the wax though, shiny and silver under the harsh lights of the bathroom. Eddie’s reflection appears in the mirror next to him, leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms across his chest. He smirks as Buck pulls at his hair, tries pinching sections and squeezing them in an attempt to push the glitter out.  </p>
<p>It doesn’t work. </p>
<p>“Everything OK, Buck?”  </p>
<p>“Fine,” Buck rolls his eyes. <em>Understatement of the year. </em>“Just … a little wrench in my morning.” </p>
<p>“Well, now you know how my carpet feels.”  </p>
<p>Buck gives up on the precision approach, tries flicking his fingers through the hair. But when that fails too, he just leans his hands on the counter and considers himself for a moment.  </p>
<p>Suddenly, he’s hit with an idea. It may not be the style choice he’d been planning for today, but he’s hard pressed to find another option. </p>
<p><em>If he can’t beat them, he might as well join them.</em> </p>
<p>He dips his fingers into some of the glitter that’s pooled on the counter, and carefully presses it into a bare spot in his hair. Buck works his way around, filling in the spots the hairbrush had missed, using more wax where he needs to so it’ll stick. He meets Eddie’s eyes in the mirror and smiles as he pats his way across the top edge and smooths everything out. </p>
<p>“I dunno, I think I can make it work, lean into the whole Frozen vibe.” He winks, and Eddie shakes his head, amusement clear in his expression. </p>
<p>By the time they make it to the store, Buck is aware of the way Eddie’s stare burns into his head. Every chance he gets, he’s looking at Buck, staring at his hair and smiling. There's nothing but affection in his gaze, crinkly eyes and soft smiles every time Buck looks back at him.  </p>
<p>And when they’re standing in the checkout line, Eddie turns and positions himself between Buck and the conveyor belt. His hands move up from Buck’s wrists to slide across his shoulders, brushing flakes of glitter away from the black T-shirt he’s wearing.  </p>
<p>He rolls up to his toes, just enough to even out the height difference so he can press a chaste kiss to Buck’s lips. </p>
<p>“You know, the glitter really is a good look on you.”  </p>
<p>Buck smiles, reaching forward to pick away a speck of glitter that had fallen onto Eddie’s forehead. </p>
<p>“Oh, believe me, I know you’re into it. That stare wasn’t hiding anything.”  </p>
<hr/>
<p>Eddie spends the next two days carefully avoiding the swath of blue glitter in his living room. Every so often, he runs the vacuum over it again, and he can tell that it’s picking up a little bit, but there’s still plenty left to deal with later.  </p>
<p>Much later, he thinks as he walks right past it on the way to the bathroom. He’s just gotten home, made sure that Chris is settled at the table to do his homework, and he’s craving a hot shower more than anything else in the world right now. </p>
<p>“Buck is on his way!” He calls down the hallway to Chris, pulling his shirt over his head as he goes. “He’ll let himself in when he gets here.” He pauses just long enough to hear Chris acknowledge the statement, then nudges the bathroom door closed and turns the hot water knob as far as it’ll go.  </p>
<p>He’s only got a few minutes to spare, knows that Chris will probably accost him with homework questions the second he’s out of the shower, but he lets the spray relax him, ease some of the tension he’s carried around all day.  </p>
<p>The shampoo builds to a thick foam between his fingers, squishing back and forth as he massages his scalp. His head drops forward, hanging heavy between his shoulders as he rinses his hair, running his hands across it until the last of the suds are swirling down the drain. His hand lingers over the conditioner bottle, but he pulls away, can’t be bothered with the extra time it would take.  </p>
<p>Instead, he shuts the water off and gropes along the wall for his towel, drying off and wrapping it around his hips for the short walk to his room. He trades it for his most comfortable gray sweats, with the tiny holes at the hem where his heels catch on them when he walks, and a black V-neck tee.  </p>
<p>Familiar voices grow louder as he comes back down the hallway, Chris’ frustrated impatience all too recognizable after many evenings settled next to him at the same table, trying to help him see the light at the end of the third-grade math tunnel. Tonight, Buck is sitting in the chair to his left, his voice calm and steady as he reminds Chris that he <em>can </em>do this, he’s <em>not </em>stupid, it’s OK for things to be hard sometimes as long as he never gives up trying to figure them out. </p>
<p>He’s not sure if it’s the pep talk, or the way Buck doesn’t fuel the fire, but Chris is starting to calm down even before Eddie gets into the kitchen. He smiles over their heads as he comes up behind Buck and rests both hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently.  </p>
<p>“You can’t do math,” he laughs as Buck brushes something off of the paper, then tips his head back to be able to see Eddie.  </p>
<p>“I can handle two-digit mult-” but the rest of his protest is lost to the giggle bubbling up from his chest. There’s no better word for it, the high pitched laugh he can’t hold back when he looks at Eddie, who’s always happy to see Buck so amused, even if he has no idea why. <em>Should he be offended? Is there something funny about his face? </em>“The red … it’s a good look on you.” </p>
<p>“Red?” Eddie feels his brow knit, trying to figure out if there’s a blush on his cheeks that he can’t feel. Chris looks up, finally, and starts laughing along with Buck.  </p>
<p>Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes a hand through his damp hair idly, trying to decide if he even wants to ask what the joke is. But when he pulls his fingers back, he notices them out the corner of his eye and looks closer. </p>
<p>They’re speckled with glitter. Bright red glitter, that he knows wasn’t on his hand 20 seconds ago.  </p>
<p>He repeats the gesture with his other hand, testing the waters to see what will happen. And sure enough, when he examines it, it’s covered in tiny, shimmery flakes. He pinches the fingers together, rubs them back and forth and watches some of the glitter fall, disappearing from view before it inevitably hits the floor. He'll be seeing it on the bottoms of his feet later, he’s almost certain, but there’s something more pressing to focus on right now. </p>
<p>“What is … how’d you …" He knows Buck is behind this; that much is evident from the way his eyes are shining almost as brightly as Eddie’s fingers. <em>And apparently, his hair too. </em>What he can’t figure out, though, is how Buck did it. </p>
<p>They hadn’t seen each other since their shift ended, not until just now. And Eddie knows his hair was fine then, remembers checking his reflection in the rearview mirror before he backed out of his parking spot.  </p>
<p>Chris is still laughing too hard to say anything, hard enough that Eddie is momentarily worried about him toppling out of his seat, but Buck is clearly trying to compose himself enough to respond. </p>
<p>“Now,” he gasps for air, clutching the edge of the table for support as he wheezes between every phrase. “Your shampoo … knows how … my hairbrush … feels!” </p>
<p>His shampoo? </p>
<p>His … shampoo. That must have been why Buck went back out to the Jeep before he got ready for bed last night. Eddie had figured he’d just left his phone charger or something, but come to think of it, Buck did spend longer brushing his teeth than usual.  </p>
<p>Buck must have been tampering with the shampoo, stirring glitter in and hoping Eddie wouldn’t notice. </p>
<p>Eddie hates that Buck was right, that he had just rubbed the shampoo into his hair without a second thought. Not that he’d had any reason to question it, but he’d have given <em>anything </em>to see the look on Buck’s face when he didn’t fall for it.  </p>
<p>As it is, he just takes advantage of the fact that he’s still standing over Buck, leans forward and ruffles his fingers through his hair so the loose specks of glitter shower over him. </p>
<p>Buck glares up at him when he realizes what Eddie is doing, but Eddie just bends down to kiss his cheek. </p>
<p>“There, now we’re even.”  </p>
<p><em>Until he gets the upper hand.</em> </p>
<hr/>
<p>Eddie knows which of the hoodies hanging in his closet is Buck’s favorite, and Buck knows that he knows. It’s why the red and grey one is always left on its hanger until Buck comes over, no matter how far behind Eddie is on laundry. Eddie offered to give it to him once, rolled his eyes when Buck said that would defeat the purpose of wearing his boyfriend’s clothes.  </p>
<p>Buck would say it again, every single day, and happily take the eye rolls if it meant he got to see the smile on Eddie’s face at the word ‘boyfriend.’ </p>
<p>He doesn’t say it now, though, doesn’t say anything as Eddie rolls over in bed, still half-asleep as he pushes himself blearily up onto his elbows to watch Buck getting dressed. He blinks as Buck pulls the T-shirt he’d slept in over his head, looks more alert by the time Buck is reaching into the closet for the hoodie. Eddie watches his movements, even though they both know which one he’s reaching for; Buck can feel his eyes following him as he pulls it loose from the hanger. </p>
<p>He turns toward the bed, faces Eddie as he turns the garment over and pushes one arm up through the bottom.  </p>
<p>Something flickers in his periphery, but he figures it’s just the last edges of sleep working their way out of his vision. He hasn’t been awake long, the sun is starting to come in through the blinds, he’s probably just adjusting to the light.  </p>
<p>He pulls the hoodie on and notices some more of the visual static as his head pops through at the top. </p>
<p>But it had been dark, for the split second he was inside the hoodie, so he chalks it up to more light adjustment. Eddie is smiling at him as he pushes the hood away from his face, and Buck grins back, always excited to see the way Eddie looks at him. He takes a couple of steps forward, until he’s standing close enough to put one knee on the foot of the bed and lean forward, pushing his fists into the mattress on either side of his leg. The bed dips under his weight, swaying his balance slightly as he tips closer to Eddie, who starts craning his neck, trying to reach Buck for a kiss. </p>
<p>Before Eddie can curl far enough into it, though, Buck turns his head and stands back upright, laughing as he pushes both hands into the pocket on the hoodie. He pulls the front of it down and away from his body as he tangles his fingers around the contents of the pocket …  </p>
<p><em>The contents of the pocket?</em> </p>
<p>This is a clean sweatshirt, straight from the closet. There shouldn’t be anything in the pockets of a clean hoodie.  </p>
<p>He feels his eyebrows ripple together as he pulls one hand free, looking down to see what he’s holding onto. </p>
<p>Before he can see his fingers, though, there’s a thick cloud of silver glitter caked around his wrist, falling onto the floor around his feet. Buck gasps, wiggling his fingers back and forth, only to watch more sparkles shake loose.  </p>
<p>Eddie snickers, rolling across the bed and standing up to pull Buck’s discarded T-shirt over his own head. It's become an accidental routine, usually the highlight of Buck’s morning: he takes off the shirt he slept in when he gets dressed, ready to start the day right out of the gate, and Eddie wears it until he gets dressed after breakfast. It’s only half an hour or so, and the shirts are usually Eddie’s to begin with, but Buck loves seeing him in the clothes he’s just finished wearing. Eddie wears it like a badge of honor, and most days it twists something in Buck’s stomach, a possessive streak he’s never had with anyone else. </p>
<p>Today, however, he’s distracted by his attempts to carefully pull his other hand out of the pocket, spilling as little glitter as he can now that he knows what’s going on. </p>
<p>That's not to say that there isn’t still a small mountain across his feet when he’s finished, but he’s clutching a folded-up piece of paper in his fist, so there was really only so much he could do to mitigate the damage. He wiggles his toes, wincing at the sensation of the glitter flakes falling between them. It’s already starting to itch, and he can only imagine how much worse that’ll be once he’s got socks on, unless he manages to get every last little bit washed off before he leaves for work. </p>
<p>When he looks up again, Eddie has made it all the way to the bedroom doorway, and something about the look on his face reminds Buck that he’s still holding the paper.  </p>
<p>He opens it up, sending more glitter to the floor as it shakes loose of the creases, and flips it right side up to read the message. </p>
<p>“Now you know how my head feels?” He says out loud, asking it as a question until he realizes that this is Eddie’s retaliation to the shampoo thing from the other night. </p>
<p>Eddie is gone, though, footfalls padding down the hall. Buck moves to follow him, but the glitter shifts across the bridge of his foot as he picks it up, and he thinks better of tracking it through the house. </p>
<p>“You know it’s your hoodie, right?” He settles for shouting down the hall as he carefully shakes his feet loose enough that he can step back over to the closet. He pulls another of Eddie’s hoodies from its hanger and tosses it over to the bed, holding his breath that the throw doesn’t fall short and land it in the glitter pile. “Eddie! Eddie, this is yours, you know that, right?” </p>
<p>He hears Eddie’s laugh all the way from the kitchen as he extricates himself from the glitter-infested sweatshirt. It’s a delicate mission, trying to wiggle out of the garment without making any bigger of a mess, but Buck manages.  </p>
<p>He drops the hoodie on the floor and brushes as much of the glitter from his hands as he can before tugging the new hoodie on and following the sound of Eddie and Chris’ cheerful morning chatter to the start of his day. </p>
<p>After all, Eddie’s the one who instigated this mess. Eddie can be the one to clean it up. </p>
<hr/>
<p>For almost a week, Buck lets Eddie think that the glitter war is over, that he’s won. He doesn’t say anything about it, and neither does Eddie, but there’s no retaliation, and he can see the way that Eddie relaxes with each passing day.  </p>
<p>He’d considered a lot of options, everything from a folded up piece of paper over a doorway to dump glitter on his head, to replacing the salt with edible glitter. </p>
<p>But after a day or so, he’d settled on his plan. It just took a little longer than expected for everything to fall into place. </p>
<p>(And who knew that glitter would have a shipping delay the week before Christmas?) </p>
<p>It had been harder than he’d thought to pull it off, to get everything lined up and arranged just so. He finally managed, though, and just in the nick of time too; any longer and he’d have been worried about the next attack coming as a total shock, instead of just a fun, sparkly surprise. </p>
<p>Everything is in place now, both of them sitting in the cab of Eddie’s truck and getting ready to leave for work. The engine turns over, vibrating gently as their seatbelts click into place.  </p>
<p>“Hey, man, I’m a little chilly.” Buck fights to keep the strain out of his voice, hopes his expression doesn’t give him away. “Can you turn the heater on?”  </p>
<p>He knows what’s coming next, knows that Eddie will go along with it, because he’ll do almost anything Buck asks of him. Even if it’s turning on the heat on a gorgeous 60-degree morning.  </p>
<p>“You know I don’t care if you play with the settings, Buck,” Eddie shoots him a look, but reaches forward anyway. “And maybe if you dressed for December, instead of insisting on short sleeves all ye-”  </p>
<p>The knob turns, the heater clicks on, and Buck can hear the air starting to whir. His lips press together in anticipation, because he knows what’s coming next. </p>
<p>And sure enough, <em>puff!</em> </p>
<p>Glitter comes spitting out of the vents, clouding the air around them. It’s not making any noise, Buck knows, but for a moment, it catches the light so beautifully that it’s like he can hear it twinkling. It looks so <em>festive, </em>the closest thing to snow he’s seen since he settled down in LA, that he almost forgets the point of all this. The glitter hangs in the air, the hot breeze from the vent still blowing it around, thick swirls of sparkle and shine, and Buck wonders if next year he should do this intentionally, maybe with a tarp or something, just for the visual effect. Chris would love to see it, he’s sure.  </p>
<p>But the moment ends when Eddie reaches out and jerks the knob again, ending the air flow. The glitter settles over them both, and Buck glances across the console. There’s a line of it almost exactly down the center of Eddie’s nose, and it’s enough to pull a loud laugh from deep in Buck’s chest. </p>
<p>And once he’s started laughing, he can’t stop; it just keeps coming harder, until he’s clutching at the armrest and gasping for breath.  </p>
<p>He sobers up again the instant he sees the look on Eddie’s face, though, his lips pressed together in a tight line. Eddie’s trying to figure out what to say, Buck can see that much on his face. What he can’t make out is <em>what </em>Eddie is thinking. It’s rare for the two of them, not being on the same page, and a little scary for Buck.  </p>
<p>What’s different today, that he can’t get a read on Eddie’s emotions? Is he actually pissed about this? Buck thinks back to the night before, using a half-folded business card from some siding company to funnel the glitter into every tiny slot on all four air vents, and wonders if he’s gone too far this time. Until now, it’s all been fun and games, but what if the line is three steps behind him? What if this is the one they can’t come back from, the well-meaning prank that tears them apart?  </p>
<p>He looks at Eddie again, starts trying to formulate the apology in his head, the offer to vacuum it all up himself, hell, to buy Eddie a new truck if that’s what it’ll take.  </p>
<p>But this time, he looks a little closer, sees the way his shoulders are shaking up and down, his eyes crinkled up at the corners.  </p>
<p><em>He's trying not to laugh. </em> </p>
<p>Buck studies him a moment longer, makes sure that he’s absolutely certain he isn’t misreading things. He’s not, so he slides his right hand carefully out of Eddie’s view, uses his peripheral vision to scoop a handful of glitter from his thigh and the edge of the car seat. </p>
<p>Then, in one fast and fluid motion, before Eddie can realize what’s happening, he brings his hand up to his own chin and blows across his palm. </p>
<p>It sends another glitter shower right into Eddie’s face, the same magical shimmer in the air before it sticks to his skin and clings to the stubble across his jawline. He looks <em>ethereal, </em>with the glitter catching in the sunlight and framing the smile that’s breaking across his face.  </p>
<p>Because this, it seems, was the last straw.  </p>
<p>Eddie can’t hold it together any longer, loses his last bits of composure as the glitter settles out of the air again. He’s laughing too hard to do anything else, so hard that he can't support himself anymore, and drops his head against the steering wheel.  </p>
<p>Which only makes them both laugh harder, as the horn sounds loudly under the impact from his face. The next thing Buck knows, they both have tears streaming down their faces, sticky trails through the glitter, but still not enough to push it away from their skin. His sides ache, and he’s coughing every time he tries to suck in a breath between fits of giggles.  </p>
<p>It takes a few minutes, but they’re finally able to pull it together enough for Eddie to put the truck in gear and back down the driveway. Normally, the drive to the station is filled with idle chatter, commentary about other drivers, plans for dinner after work, whatever crosses their minds. But today, every time one of them opens their mouth, they both dissolve into more laughter.  </p>
<p>When they get to the station, they’re still laughing, dropping to the ground and trying to brush as much glitter out of the seats and floorboard as they can, and clean themselves and each other up as much as possible.  </p>
<p>It works, to a degree, and there’s a fine dusting of shimmer across three parking places, but Buck can see how iridescent Eddie still is as he pulls the door open, holding it for Eddie to enter ahead of him. He can only assume that he’s just as sparkly, and holds his breath against whatever commentary he knows is coming. There’s no hiding it, not with the way the specks reflect off of the black uniforms every time they move.  </p>
<p>And sure enough, they hardly make it into the common area, Buck’s hand slipping into Eddie’s as they reach the top of the stairs, before Chimney looks at him and chokes on a sip of his coffee. </p>
<p>“What is this? Some … Edward Cullen vampire fantasy thing?” He’s incredulous, and Buck can tell from the look on his face that he doesn’t particularly want to hear the answer. Especially if he’s right.  </p>
<p>He considers playing along, just to get a rise out of Chim, coming back with something about how they couldn’t decide who was going to be Edward and who would be Bella, that they both assumed they’d be the vampire and dressed for the part. But when he looks at Eddie, the confusion on his face is clear, and Buck can’t bring himself to drag Eddie into the middle of it, without him even knowing what they’re talking about.  </p>
<p><em>Maybe next time they show up at work caked in glitter.</em> </p>
<p>"You would know, wouldn’t you? All the time you spend watching B-list teen movies?” He replies instead. Even though he clearly hasn’t seen the movies, Buck glances at Eddie and can see the relief on his face when he realizes that Chimney wasn’t actually suggesting that they were vampires.  </p>
<p>Chimney opens his mouth, and Buck braces himself for the response. But Bobby intervenes before he can say anything, stopping in his tracks as he catches his first glimpse of Buck and Eddie. The captain’s mere presence is enough to shut Chim up; even though he has no idea what he was going to say, Buck can only imagine that it must have been off-color (and probably very funny). </p>
<p>But he’s got something else to worry about now, if the way Bobby is looking them up and down is any indication. He’s working his jaw, but Buck can’t get a good read on his attitude until he sighs heavily and closes his eyes. </p>
<p>“Two weeks,” he begins, not quite smiling, but still sounding affectionate. “Two weeks, we’ve ignored it. The two of you keep showing up covered in more glitter than the last time.” </p>
<p>“Here’s what happ-” Buck tries to interject, but Bobby holds up a hand, effectively silencing him as he continues. </p>
<p>“I don’t want to know. HR probably doesn’t want me to know. But it ends <em>now. </em>Go clean up, <em>then </em>you can sit on the couch. Understood?”  </p>
<p>He doesn’t sound angry, but there’s no nonsense in his tone. And Buck and Eddie are both smart enough to nod without argument and turn for the locker room. </p>
<p>It takes 20 minutes for them to shower, stood underneath the lukewarm trickle of water in the station, and scrub as much glitter off of themselves and each other as they can. Their skin is red and raw by the time they’re done, flimsy washcloths clinging to little clumps of soggy glitter. Eddie goes to hang his rag on the hook before they step out of the stall, but Buck reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can. </p>
<p>“Don’t … let it touch anything. They’re not worth salvaging.” Buck tosses his own washcloth into the nearest trash can as they wrap towels around their waists and head for their lockers. Neither of them had heard the door open while they were showering, but there is a pair of lint rollers on the bench that hadn’t been there before.  </p>
<p>Buck reaches for one, runs it up and down his arm to catch some of the last specks the shower hadn’t taken care of. He gives one of Eddie’s shoulders the same treatment, then turns toward his uniform. Neither of them had worn jackets today, so the black polyester had taken the brunt of the shimmery assault.  </p>
<p>They peel through several sheets of the light adhesive, but the shirts are beyond saving. It’s going to take several wash cycles, and honestly, maybe a dry cleaner, before either of them will be cleared for duty in these uniforms.  </p>
<p>Mercifully, they’ve both learned enough from other, non-glitter related incidents in the past to keep a spare uniform stashed in their lockers. Buck watches Eddie flip his soiled shirt inside out before he folds it, carefully keeping the glitter contained to the inside of the neat packet. He follows his lead, and they redress quickly.  </p>
<p>When they emerge, back to the common area, Bobby is waiting for them at the top of the steps. He looks them up and down, arms folded tightly across his chest, then waves a finger in the air for them to turn around.  </p>
<p>Inspection complete, Bobby nods as Buck peers at him over his shoulder. </p>
<p>“You're good.” He gestures to the couch and they drop down next to each other, pointedly ignoring the way Hen and Chimney are snickering behind their hands. The TV is flickering, and Buck tries to follow the plot of whatever daytime sitcom they’ve been able to find today </p>
<p>He’s just managed to figure it out, when Eddie shifts into his personal space. He presses his forehead into the top of Buck’s shoulder, ostensibly letting his half-wet hair drip underneath Buck's shirt collar.  </p>
<p>“You know this means you’re driving tomorrow, right?” </p>
<hr/>
<p>Actually, Buck ends up driving all week, right up to Christmas Eve. And when they go to bed that night, he tucks himself into Eddie’s bed, the bed that may as well be his own, for as many nights as he’s spent in it. They wake up together in the morning, quietly exchanging soft, sleepy kisses until the sound of Chris’ footfalls coming down the hall interrupt them. </p>
<p>They let him lead them down the hall, and indulge in close to three hours of present unwrapping. Even though he’d wrapped almost all of them, Eddie still stares at the pile of gifts Chris has received and wonders how they’re all meant to fit in his room.  </p>
<p><em>Maybe they can sort through after the first of the year and donate some of the things he doesn’t use anymore. </em> </p>
<p>Buck unwraps a cookbook from Chris, recipes for kids, with an inscription clumsily handwritten inside the cover: <em>Buck – can we make ALL of these? Love, Christopher Diaz. </em>For a moment, Eddie wonders how he’d pulled it off without either of them knowing, but then he remembers to never doubt his abuela’s abilities.  </p>
<p>When he’s flipped through the book and commented on a few of the recipes, Buck reaches underneath the tree and hands Chris another package. </p>
<p>“We can make anything you want out of here, kiddo. But you might need these along the way.” </p>
<p>Chris tears into the festive wrapping, reveals a set of child-sized kitchen utensils and a tiny apron with his name stitched across the front. He nearly knocks Buck over under the force of his hug, but they both stay upright when Buck throws an arm behind him to catch their combined weights as Chris starts chattering on about all the fun things he and Buck can cook together.  </p>
<p>Eddie gets a new video game, and requests for “Dad and Buck and Chris Game Night,” which he immediately agrees to at some indefinite point in the future.  </p>
<p>Buck and Eddie exchange small gifts, a biography Buck had been eyeing and some new slippers to replace Eddie’s falling-apart house shoes, and a quiet glance that promises more to come. </p>
<p>They wind up in the kitchen after lunch, standing across the island from each other while Chris cracks open one of his new books on the sofa. Buck lines up three identical gift bags, shiny red with white tissue, while Eddie reveals two colorfully wrapped packages and a tiny manila envelope that’s bursting at the edges. </p>
<p>“You go first,” Eddie insists, passing Buck one of the packages. He slips one finger under the edge and neatly pulls the flap loose, sliding the box out from the open end of the wrapping. He tugs the top open and turns it over, shaking the contents into his open palm. </p>
<p>“A … hairbrush.” He grins and holds it up, then reaches for one of his gift bags. “I had the same idea, dude.”  </p>
<p>Eddie takes the bag when he holds it out, wondering why Buck would have bought him a hairbrush. Not that he doesn’t appreciate everything Buck has ever given him, everything Buck ever will give him, but … he doesn’t need a hairbrush.  </p>
<p>Still, he pulls the paper loose from the top, and reaches into the bag. His hand wraps around a smooth plastic bottle, and as he pulls it out, the red plastic is immediately familiar.  </p>
<p><em>Buck replaced his shampoo.</em> </p>
<p>Eddie looks up and they both start laughing. Clearly, they’re on the same page here, as they are with almost everything else. Buck proves him right when he holds out the next bag. It weighs virtually nothing in Eddie's hand, save the weight of the packaging itself. He pulls the tissue away to reveal a folded-up piece of paper.  </p>
<p>After a moment of fumbling, Eddie puts the bag on the table and opens the paper. It's a website printout, for a bright blue rug. At the bottom, Buck has scrawled in his messy handwriting <em>out of sight, out of mind, right? </em>It’s the furthest thing in the world from what Eddie would have picked on his own, but he can immediately picture it underneath the coffee table, covering the last of the residual blue glitter on the carpeting.  </p>
<p>“The rug, it’s in my apartment,” Buck clarifies, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I, uh, I couldn’t fit in the matching bag, obviously. But I can … I’ll go get it this afternoon, if-if you-” </p>
<p>“Buck,” Eddie interjects, smiling at his boyfriend’s antics. “Don’t sweat it. We’ll get it over here eventually. Besides, it’s your turn.”  </p>
<p>He nudges the second wrapped gift toward Buck, and steps just far enough back from the counter to wrap his hands around the sides and lean his weight forward in anticipation.  </p>
<p>This package is a little lopsided, Eddie knows. The corners are rounded and wrinkled, and the edges didn’t line up quite right. But he hadn’t been able to find a decently sized box; everything was too small to fit the present inside, or too big to be reasonable. So he’d settled for wrapping it loose, and just making it as neat as he could.  </p>
<p>Buck doesn’t seem to notice, though, or just doesn’t care, as he completely abandons the pretenses from the last gift and tears into the wrapping. The package squishes and bends under his ministrations, but he pulls the paper away easily, revealing a red and grey sweatshirt, with a thick fleece-lined hood and a pocket on the front. </p>
<p>“You … replaced your hoodie … for me?” Buck looks up at him, confused, turning the garment back and forth in his hands. </p>
<p>“I told you, you’re the only one who ever wears that one.” Eddie rocks back onto his heels and smiles, shrugging with both hands. “But,” he continues when Buck opens his mouth and tries to hold the hoodie out toward Eddie. “If you want, we can hang it in my side of the closet.”  </p>
<p>At that, Buck nods. Because even though he’s not moved in, not officially, half of his clothes are in Eddie’s closet, hung neatly on the left side. Eddie’s own clothes hang on the right, even if they both wear clothes from both sides pretty much every day.  </p>
<p>So if Buck wants to hang the new hoodie on Eddie’s side of the closet, it’s fine by him. </p>
<p>Buck hands him the third bag, just as light as the second. But this time, there’s an envelope inside, and he opens it to reveal a greeting card. The front is a shiny white, embossed with silver snowflakes, and a handmade gift certificate drops out into his palm.  </p>
<p><em>Good for one car detailing, </em>it says, in neatly printed type arched over a cartoon truck and a clipart of a sudsy sponge. <em>Deglittering included.</em> </p>
<p>“I’m going to use this,” Eddie says, waving it between them. “I hope you know that.” </p>
<p>“Good. That’s why I got it for you.” </p>
<p>“It’s not just the glitter either. Chris had an incident with some Goldfish a few weeks ago; there are still crumbs in the floor mats.”  </p>
<p>“Well, then it sounds like I got you the perfect present.” </p>
<p>“Mmm, pretty close,” Eddie smirks, taking the opportunity to pick up the envelope, the last unopened present sitting between them. “But you might want to see what this is first.” </p>
<p>It’s probably the gift he’d agonized over the most this year, and that included the four hours he’d spent waiting in line for the release of the new book Chris had been begging for. That had been worth it, just for the look on his face when he’d unwrapped it, and Eddie can only hope for a similarly positive reaction from Buck. </p>
<p>“Oh?” Buck raises his eyebrows and tilts his head to one side.  </p>
<p>Eddie doesn’t say anything else, just passes Buck the envelope, tucked between two fingers, and lifts his own eyebrows with a smile.  </p>
<p>Buck takes the offering. He tries to peel back the flap, but when he sees how thoroughly Eddie has taped it, he settles for carefully tearing across the top. </p>
<p>He’s not careful enough, though, and a cloud of shiny blue, red and silver glitter comes tumbling out, fluttering across the countertop.  </p>
<p>On reflex, as they’ve both learned to do these last few weeks, Buck jumps backward, trying to avoid the shimmery assault. Only this time, he’s still holding the packet loosely between his thumb and forefinger, and the motion is enough to send it spinning around in his hand, the center of balance tipping until the rest of the glitter is pouring onto the floor.  </p>
<p>There’s a metallic thud, something solid falling out of the envelope and bouncing off of the linoleum. The sound echoes on itself, rattling as the object settles into the pile of glitter at his feet.  </p>
<p>Buck stares at it in confusion, then glances up at Eddie, who offers no explanation but to wave one hand at the mess. When he does, Buck crouches down. Eddie walks around the end of the island, trying to keep Buck in his eyeline. He’s stooped down, one elbow braced on his knee.  </p>
<p>He’s using two fingers on his other hand to poke gently at the glitter, trying not to spread the mess around more than he must while he fishes the tiny item loose.  </p>
<p>By the time he’s retrieved his gift, Buck is laughing at the sheer absurdity of the entire thing. It’s one of Eddie’s favorite sounds in the world, and he can’t help but join in, both of them laughing as Buck stands up and flips the item into his palm.  </p>
<p>It’s covered in the sparkles, but Buck clears them away carefully, like he’s afraid of breaking whatever it is that he’s holding. With every brush of his fingers, he reveals more of the object, and Eddie finds himself waiting with baited breath even though he knows exactly what it is.  </p>
<p>Finally, Buck has swept away enough of the glitter to clearly see what he’s holding: a shiny gold key. He holds it up for Eddie to see, still laughing at the way glitter is wedged into all of the grooves. </p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure this is just going to screw up the lock, Eds.” His eyes are twinkling, but Eddie turns a little shy all of a sudden. He stands by the gesture, the symbolism of presenting Buck with a key that they both know matches the one already hanging from his keyring. This time, he’s offering <em>Buck’s key, </em>not a spare for him to hang onto.  </p>
<p>But was the glitter the right move? He’d thought it was funny at the time, an homage to the antics they’ve shared the last few weeks.  </p>
<p>“I … it was more romantic in my head.” He’s resisting the urge to rub at the back of his neck, trying to hide the hesitation that’s building in his stomach. </p>
<p>But then Buck is dropping the key on the counter and stepping forward to stand right in front of Eddie, close enough to feel the heat from his body as Buck’s hands settle on his hips.  </p>
<p>“It’s … it’s perfect.” Eddie could be mistaken, but he’s pretty sure that Buck’s eyes are glassy. “And the floor will clean up. Here, I’ll get a wet towel.”  </p>
<p>He moves to step around Eddie, but he reaches for Buck’s wrist and stops him from passing.  </p>
<p>“Leave it,” he turns to face Buck again, feels one corner of his own mouth tick up in a half-smile at the confusion washing across Buck’s features before leaning in to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.  </p>
<p>“We can get the glitter out of <em>our </em>kitchen later.”  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And there we have it! I've still got one more wintery fic on the way, probably sometime in the next week or so.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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